Thomas Cowherd: Verses about Poetry

DEAR SIR:-

Pray deem it not presumptious in me
To give expression thus to what I felt
Last night, while listening to the poetry
In your discourse, as you on Commerce dwelt.

I know not if you ever wrote a rhyme,
Or framed your thoughts in a well measured line;
But sure I am your language so sublime,
Shows you possess a deep, poetic mine.

I listened with attention most profound,
As did the audience that before you sat,
Feeling as if I was on holy ground;
Which in my mind deep reverence begat.

And O, when you led us in spirit back
To Eden's God-formed, most delightful bowers.
Ere our great parents had endured the rack
Of sin-struck consciences among her flowers,

I almost fancied that I heard the birds
Warbling melodiously the praise of God;
While sinless man in soul-enraptured words,
Responded as he pressed the flowery sod.

And when Sin came, as with hot furnace-breath,
To blast the loveliness of all around,
And our progenitors first tasted death
With consciousness that they were naked found,

You did portray the scene so vividly,
Of their rude efforts at an uncouth dress,
That tears of pity from strong sympathy
Bedimmed my eyes to see their great distress.

And when you showed how God with skillful hand
Employed Himself to make them coats of skin,
I saw mechanic skill take higher stand
From this divine and early origin.

And O, I thought this fact should ever lead
Artificers to strive and manage well
Their several crafts; and show by word and deed
Their love to him who does in glory dwell.

Then, as I watched the progress made by Art,
And peaceful Commerce coming by degrees,
I felt it was your mission to impart
To this war-ravaged world such views as these.

My gladsome soul did to such views respond,
And utterance found before my God in prayer.
Hence caught fresh glimpses of the time beyond
The present age, which shall such glory share.

Go on, great champion of the Good and True,
Spread wide the messages of dove-eyed Peace,
And may God's richest blessing flow to you
Where'er you are, until your labors cease!

Three lovely boys who bear my name,
Have all upon me equal claim,
And seem to ask a rhyme from me-
A humble poet as you see.
James, Christopher and Alfred, dear,
You often do my spirit cheer,
Each in his own most charming way,
From hour to hour, from day to day.
James by his often tuneful mood,
And other things best understood
By a fond parent, at the time,
To he as sweet as music's chime.
In him, though young, my eye can trace
A something in his pretty face
Which shows strong passion lurks within
That childish breast-the fruit of sin.
I also think I truly see
A trait somewhat too miserly.
I may be wrong-I hope I am,
For 'twould be sad in my sweet lamb.

Then Chris, what must I say of him,
Who shows us many a little whim?
But with it all displays affection
For one so young in much perfection,
And can forget his sorrows all,
Though his young heart he filled with gall.
If but his mother seem to cry
he upward turns his bright brown eye,
And asks so earnestly a kiss
That we're compelled to love our Chris.

Once, dear child, O strange to tell,
From brother Willie's knee he fell
And sadly burned his little arm,
Which greatly filled us with alarm.
He cried, as might have been expected,
And quick relief was not neglected.
But while his heart was fit to burst,
He spied a wound on Mamma's hand,
And though his own w as far the worst,
The sight of Hers he could not stand.
He ceased his crying, gave a sigh,
'Poor Mamma's sore,' [Footnote: A literal fact] became his cry.
My darling child, this act of thine
Makes me right glad to call thee mine.

But I must hasten; one remains
Who well deserves my ablest strains.
This is my Alfred-lovely babe
A smiling cherub sure art thou,
How can I best describe thy charms?
How can I write about thee now?
Nearly four months have passed away
Since thou first saw the light of day;
And in that time we've hardly had
One tedious night with thee, my lad.
By day thy chirruping and smiles
Thy own dear mother's heart beguiles,
And makes me run a dreadful risk
Of falling to idolatry!
But let me tell thee, little Frisk,
This will not do for thee or me!
'Tis time to quit; I cease to write,
And bid my precious babes good night!

For us who're snatched as brands from hell
Some portion of my time to tell
In humble verse what God hath wrought
For us who're snatched as brands from hell.

The best of all my coaxing powers
To lure the Muse I'll freely spend,
Nor heed a whit the fleeting hours
Until my pleasing task shall end.

For I have found a friend in thee,
Such as I strove in vain to find
For twenty years; and this may be
A wonder to thy generous mind.

But so it is; and I would prize
The gift my God has kindly sent,
Nor quell the feelings which arise
Within my breast, till life be spent.

So, while my unlearned lyre I take,
Most gracious Muse, thy aid impart!
Thou canst not at such time forsake
Thy humble friend in this his Art.

No paltry theme shall form my lay
To such a friend at such a time.
Then let my thoughts in rich array
Come forth in gently flowing rhyme.

Nor wealth nor earthly pleasures make
The sum and substance of my song;
Such themes let grovelling rhymsters take,
Who write to please a worldly throng.

For him and me a better way
Remains, and I will freely sing
Of pleasures with most lustrous ray,-
Of those which from religion spring.

And well indeed may'st thou, dear friend,
Rejoice with me that God hath brought
Such sinful creatures to attend
Unto His voice who pardon brought.

I more than twice ten years have been
Within the Way to Endless Life.
Thou in the last few months hast seen
That Way with richest blessings rife.

And now, when seated round our fires,
Or when we take our walks abroad,
We seem as one in strong desires
To speak the praises of our God.

Big thoughts our kindred bosoms swell,
Deep gratitude our ardor fires,
Until we long for words to tell
The fervency that Love acquires;

And ponder as so well we may
Upon our present happy state
Compared with that in which we lay-
Objects of wrath at hell's dread gate.

We ask each other, Why is this?
Why are we favored thus of God?
Why are we made joint heirs of Bliss,
Destined to dwell in His abode?

Quickly the answer comes to hand:
Simply because of God's pure Grace.
And does not Love like God's demand
That we all seasons should embrace-

To speak to others of Christ's worth,
That they with us may fully share
The glories of our heavenly birth,
The riches He can freely spare?

Then let us, brother, with our might,
Work for Him while 'tis called To-day;
Looking above for strength, for light,
Press forward in this thrice-blest way.

Let us dig deep into that mine
Of hidden wealth stored in the Word,
And with strong faith all else resign
Just clinging solely to the Lord.

O, should our lives for years be spared,
May not one word or thought or deed
Unworthy God, be by us shared,
Who are from Satan's bondage freed.

Domestic bliss! what tongue can speak thy praise!
What poet give, even in his noblest lays,
An eulogy that shall thy charms express,
Clothed in Truth's language, thy own native dress?
To thy sweet influence do we owe the choice
Of all mankind, whoever raised their voice
In Freedom's cause, or stood on battle-ground,
While Liberty her banner waved around.
To thee, when governed by God's holy book,
Must we in future for true heroes look.
For if thou dwellest in each family,
Then long may wave the flag of Liberty!
To keep thee shining brightly round each hearth,
Is worth the wealth contained in all the earth!
It does become us then to study well
(Who knows the secret? Would some Angel tell?)
The best of means by which to foster this
Great earthly blessing, pure domestic bliss!
Hail sweet conjugal union! Hail to thee!
May I thy humble votary ever be!
Take thee away, and each dear earthly home
Would soon a scene of dreadful strife become;
And from this source would spring a thousand woes
Which to imagine has my heart's blood froze!

Dear fellow countrymen! Stand forward now,
And faithful prove unto your marriage vow.
I conjure you by all the sacred ties
By which you're bound unto your families,
Whatever faults, through weakness, you display,
In this be faithful to your dying day!
Why will you leave the wife you swore to love,
Who should to you be as a precious dove,
To wanton with a harlot void of shame,
And bring disgrace upon a father's name?
Why will you pierce yourselves with sorrow through,
And ruin bring upon your children, too?
Oh! let a broken-hearted wife's deep sighs,
And children's woes, bring tears into your eyes!
Give to yourselves no rest, by day or night,
Till you have made their saddened faces bright.
Oh! there is One above who sees you now,
If you repent not he will bring you low!
Regard this warning, flee to God for peace,
From loving your dear families never cease.

And ye, whose task it is to make our laws,
Lend your strong influence to aid this cause;
See that your hands are clean-or make them so-
You've much to answer for, of weal or woe.
Young COOPER'S parents did on him impress
The way to gain domestic happiness:
More by example than by precepts strong
They their dear children sought to lead along
Their constant conduct to each other told
What they preferred before the richest gold.
And one who knows them well can testify
That they themselves would evermore deny,
Ere they would risk their own or family's peace,
As some have done, who scarce from jarring cease.
In such a family, as we might expect,
True discipline met not with long neglect.
And this, employed aright, the Lord will bless,
In spite of childhood's frequent waywardness.

Trained in this manner, WILLIAM soon arrived
Just to the time when means should he contrived
To get for him at once a proper trade,
And he to this not one objection made.
It was his choice that he might he employed
In marble works, and had the thought enjoyed
That some good master would his service need;
But disappointment was for him decreed.
Some other places then the father tried,
But all with boys appeared to be supplied.
The youth more anxious grew from day to day,
Nor could well brook what seemed such sad delay.
He oft retired at night unto his bed,
With various plans contrived in his young head;
But vanished soon were all these well-formed schemes,
As though they were so many empty dreams;
Until, by 'hope deferred,' he was made sad,
And even home scenes failed to make him glad.
He now had nearly reached his thirteenth year,
And did a small, weak youth, indeed, appear;
Yet though so very young and small, this boy
Had felt deep sorrow, and no little joy.

Good news at last he heard, with much delight,
When his dear father came from work one night;
He said a tradesman an apprentice wanted,
And told what wages would to him be granted.
WILLIAM at once accepted of the place,
And met the man next morn with smiling face.
'Twas soon agreed that he a month should try
The work, and his new master satisfy.
This soon flew past, and he was strongly bound
Till seven long years should, in their course, move round.

To mention all his trials and mishaps
Would please no reader of this tale, perhaps;
Suffice to say, he did himself exert
In his new business, and was soon expert
In making up their wares of shining metal-
A teapot, can, or otherwise a kettle.
Let none despise him for his occupation,
For God has stamped it with His approbation.
'Tis therefore lawful, and should always be
Approved of men, though e'en of high degree.
God's holy book commands that saints engage
In honest callings, throughout every age;
That they may lead a just and holy life,
Nor needlessly be found in worldly strife;
That they themselves and households may maintain,
From the just proceeds of a righteous gain.
Let none be found so foolish or so base,
As to regard mechanics as a race
Devoid of intellect and common sense,
Who to true honor have no just pretence.
Our ranks can boast of one far higher name
Than e'er was found in other paths of fame.
This, my assertion, may to many prove
A puzzle great, while puzzles they do love.
Cheer up, ye poor mechanics! and pursue
Your lowly trades, and Heaven keep still in view.

Ye who have naught to boast save rank and wealth,
Look round you openly-or look by stealth;
See what our factories have done for you-
And for the world-whichever side you view!
Without them, Ocean ne'er would bear a sail
To catch the breeze, or fly before the gale;
Without them, where could we obtain the Press-
That mightiest engine in the universe?
Take it away, and we should back be thrown
Into dark ages, which would Science drown.
While all the household comforts that we boast
Would disappear, and be forever lost!
Such thoughts as these would ramble through the brain
Of our apprentice, while he did maintain
A due respect for those above him placed,
And kept these things within his mind encased.

Let none suppose that he his trade pursued
Without exposure to temptations rude.
In that small shop he found a vicious youth,
Who feared not God, nor yet regarded truth:
One who deep drank, who gambled, swore and lied
Most awfully; nor can it be denied,
Some other practices he did pursue
Which, I would hope, he long has learned to rue.
'Twas well for WILLIAM that this vicious youth
Was, undisguisedly, averse to truth;
That, in attempting to sow evil seeds,
He made no secret of his foulest deeds.
Howe'er it was, our hero stood his ground,
In such sad vices never was he found.
He now acknowledges 'twas God's rich grace
Kept him from falling in that dangerous place.
And, from his heart, that goodness would adore
Which did preserve him 'midst such trials sore.
'Evil communications,' God declares,
'Corrupt good manners.' Who then boldly dares
To say their influence will not be seen
In those who long exposed to them have been?
For, well we know, the unregenerate mind
Is proper soil wherein to seek and find
The seeds of latent evil, which may spring-
And springing, grow, till they destruction bring.
Even so it was with WILLIAM'S carnal heart,
Some mischief settled in its fleshy part.
Nor was this all; he oft became the butt
Of journeymen or 'prentice, who would glut
Their hardened hearts by showing greatest spite
'Gainst him for following what he thought was right.
Often that wicked youth, in wantonness,
Would try all means to give him sore distress.
And once, with all a dreadful demon's rage-
In such acts none but demons would engage-
He threw him down, and held him; then applied
A lighted candle to his throat and tried
To make him think it merely was a joke!
Which was as true as most of what he spoke.
The sore thus made gave him most cruel pain,
And left a scar that does even now remain.

Bad as this was, it was not half so bad
As what was done unto another lad.
I heard the story, and believe it true-
And shudder while I have it in my view.

The town in which this shocking act was done
I have passed through-it was an English one.
The scene, a Tinsmith's shop, where several men
Were wont to work, and all were present then.
A monster man two solder-irons took,
Made them quite hot, and, with a fiendish look,
Went right behind the boy, and on each side
The heated irons to his face applied!
The youth saw one, his head aside he threw,
Received a burn, before his fate he knew;
He quickly turned it then the other way,
And had two scars unto his dying day!

Methinks I hear the thoughtful reader ask,
'Why was the man, at once, not ta'en to task?
Why did the other men not take a part
With that poor boy, and show a feeling heart?'
I am informed they all enjoyed the joke!
Not one reproachful word they ever spoke.
I blush to think that any of my trade
Should of such monsters ever be afraid.
The very thought still makes my blood to boil-
And shuddering, from such thoughts I back recoil!
I would have dragged the fiend unto a jail,
Or had him fastened to a wagon's tail,
Laid bare his back, and let the lash descend-
And, doing this, would still my act defend!

Ye masters, foremen, journeymen, and all
Who view such scenes, on each of you I call
To try your utmost now to do away
Such shocking deeds, enacted day by day!
If this you do not, you deserve the blame,
And richly merit good men's scorn and shame.

Our WILLIAM'S trials led him oft to think
That, while from duty he would never shrink,
It would be better far to leave his trade,
Than the sad object of such sport be made.
And to his father spoke to this effect-
Not in ill humor, but with much respect.
The father's counsel was, that he should stay.
As soon the other youth would go away.

I here may mention he had one good friend,
And one on whom he always could depend;
This was his dear young master, who oft took
Much pains in reading o'er the Christian's Book-
Received its lessons in his gentle heart,
And showed by this he chose the better part.
He would encourage and defend the youth,
Who saw it right to let him know the truth.
Alas! this master soon was seized by Death,
And died rejoicing in our 'common faith.'
COOPER with grief beheld the sorrowing scene,
And called to mind how kind that friend had been;
And often wished more like to him were found
In all the workshops through the country round.
Still time moved on; the elder youth took leave,
And those he left had no just cause to grieve.
'Twas WILLIAM'S turn to take the other's place,
And do his best to bring it no disgrace.
He now had under him a younger boy,
While better work did his own hands employ.
The workshop was a cellar, close to th' street,
And passers-by would oft the workmen greet.
The light came through an iron-grated space,
Making a prison-like and dismal place.

One day a stir was made that street within,
And each felt anxious to behold the scene.
The errand-boy was busy cleaning knives,
As others have done often in their lives.
He in a moment climbed upon the bench,
And the huge carver in his hand did clench.
WILLIAM was looking up, with outstretched throat,
Quite unobservant, being lost in thought.
'I'll cut! I'll cut!' fell quickly on his ear;
He felt sharp pain, and thus had cause to fear!
The boy, for fun, across WILL'S neck had drawn
The carving-knife, and stood still as a stone;
Quite terrified at sight of blood, he said,
'I thought it was th' back!' it proved the edge instead.
The wound was slight, but might have been far worse-
And he might ne'er have figured in my verse.
One thing the serious reader would expect-
To give God thanks he could not well neglect.
Ah, me! his passion drove such thought away-
Strong Passion's call he hastened to obey;
And feeling in a dreadful angry mood,
He beat the boy that it might do him good!
Yes, beat him without mercy, and declared
'Twas well, indeed, the lad no worse had fared!
God dealt not thus with thee, my hero fine,
He long forbore with all those sins of thine;
And 'twas but just thou should'st some mercy show,
To that poor boy, who did no better know.

My Muse, most willingly, would quit these themes-
Which are not seemly in a poet's dreams.
More pleasing topics now demand my pen,
Though often sung by many wiser men.
The subject of my verse had early felt
That sensibility within him dwelt.
So constituted was he, that at school,
When he should have been conning grammar's rule-
In deep arithmetic-or other task-
His eye would wander to a distant desk,
Which, having reached, itself it stationed there,
Fixed on some beauty-bud of promise rare!
'Twill not seem strange, then, if in after years
This thing called Sensibility appears.
Strange, or not strange, our hero's heart was warm,
Which made him seek the other sex's charm;
And when his mind was brought to fix on one
Who, in his eyes, all others far outshone-
He loved to ramble, on a moonlight night,
With that dear girl-so charming in his sight-
And listen to the murmuring of Kent's stream,
Whose face reflected full each pale moonbeam;
Or wander by the side of some lone wood,
In sweet discourse, which both considered good.
Or else they clomb, delighted, up that hill,
Upon whose top the Castle's ruins still
Invite the mind, in pensiveness, to know
The end of all things in this world below.
Yes, these have stood within that gloomy place,
Which now exhibits many a striking trace
Of the rude ravages of Man and Time,
As seen upon that edifice sublime.
And, as he stood upon that green hill's brow,
Has felt inclined abiding love to vow
To her, who fondly on his arm was leaning
With upturned eyes, which well bespoke their meaning.
That place is sacred to such lovers' vows-
As could be witnessed by each tree that grows
Around those ruins; which have also seen
Some sad, strange sights within their day, I ween!
Sometimes they chose to see a mutual friend,
And in sweet singing would the evening spend.
At other times through beauteous Gillingrove,
[Footnote: A well-known lovers' retreat.]
They, arm in arm, and rapt in love, would rove.
This walk they mostly took on Sunday nights,
As most in keeping with that day's delights.
For both had long quite strict attendants been
At a small Chapel, thought to be too mean
To be oft visited by wealthy men;
Though some would wander to it now and then.
As yet nor WILLIAM, nor his girl, professed
To be by saving Gospel Truth most bless'd;
Yet both went there three times each Sabbath day,
To join in singing, if they did not pray.
And 'tis but right that Christian parents should
To church take children, for the children's good.
To lead them to regard the Lord's own day-
Nor spend its hours in idleness or play.
These two young people might be quite sincere,
For all their friends could ever see or hear;
But though their love was warm, and pure as day,
Time spent in this wise runs to waste away.
Of leisure he had never much to boast,
For every work-day found him at his post;
From six at morn till eight o'clock at night,
He faithful wrought, as in his Master's sight.
Yet oft he wished-that wish was strongest then-
Improvement in his learning to obtain;
But, such love frolics made that wish in vain.
This grieved him much when, afterwards, desire
He felt to nurture true poetic fire;
And did regret that youthful follies cost
So much in precious time forever lost.
This folly seen, he strove with eager haste
To let his leisure run no more to waste,
And rose each morn at four or five o'clock,
To walk abroad, and gain of health a stock;
Or listen to the lark's sweet morning lay,
As he rose up to greet the King of Day;
Or let the lively, thrilling blackbird's song,
Charm his fond ear as he walked slow along.
Sometimes through well-fenced fields of new-mown hay-
Breathing out fragrance-he was wont to stray;
Or climb a bill with firm, elastic tread,
While Sol his early beams in radiance shed.
The Castle hill he mostly did prefer,
As quite accordant with his character.
Upon its ruins he would musing sit,
Till he was seized with a strong rhyming fit;
Then frame his welling thoughts to some rude verse-
Which friends were anxious he should oft rehearse.
If thus his leisure was not always spent,
He read what books his friends had to him lent.
Of such good things he owned but very few-
And parents needed all the cash he drew.
Thus was his time most constantly employed,
While life passed smoothly on-not unenjoyed.

My harp awakes! And as I touch each string,
The poor Mechanic Emigrant I sing.
Eighteen eventful years, or rather more,
Have fled since first he left his native shore-
That much-loved shore! that dear old English home!
So oft regretted since first led to roam.
My Muse, 'tis thine to give in artless lays,
A genuine history of his early days;
Make known the place where first he saw the light,
Portray the scenes which pleased his boyish sight,
Unfold his parentage, and backward trace
Their line, descended from no common race;
Speak of his eagerness to learn a trade,
Mark what proficiency in that he made,
Glance at his love scenes, and a lesson show,
Which youths in general would do well to know.
Fail not to tell how, in his eighteenth year,
He did, as Christian, publicly appear.
Make known the cause that led him first to feel
A strong desire to seek his future weal,
In emigration to that distant shore
Where flow great rivers, and loud cataracts roar;
Where mighty lakes afford the fullest scope
For future commerce, and the settler's hope.
Go with him to his home in the wild woods-
That rude log cottage where he stored his goods;
Paint faithfully the scenes through which he passed,
And how he settled in a town at last;
What then befel him in successive years,
Or aught which to thee suitable appears,
To make his history such as may be read
By high-born race, or those more lowly bred.
Let usefulness be still thy constant aim,
Nor care a jot for merely worldly fame.
Help me to seek, by constant, earnest prayer
That God's approval be my chiefest care.
And if a Poet thou would'st wish to make
Thy guide and pattern, gentle COWPER take.
Thus, O my Muse! may we together spend
Some happy hours, until my task shall end.
And when 'tis finished, may it ne'er be said
That we a useless memoir have displayed.

In the northwest of England's verdant isle,
Where beauteous scenery meets one with a smile,
Where lakes and rivers burst upon the sight
And fill the mind with transports of delight,
Where lofty hills unite with lowly dales
To furnish matter for instructive tales,
There is a town, a very ancient town,
Which, should enjoy a share of high renown.
My native place! I need not sink the name-
Such act, sweet KENDAL! thou might'st justly blame,
A place so dear, I trust I still shall love,
Where'er I am, or wheresoe'er I rove!
It has its site fast by a pleasant stream,
Beside whose banks our hero learned to dream.
Though quiet, it gave birth to many a name,
Which for good deeds obtained a moderate fame.
Some few there were well skilled in Science deep,
Who now within its several graveyards sleep.
Its once-proud Castle that in ruin lies,
The birthplace was of one who lived to rise
To queenly state, and sit upon a throne
And the eighth HENRY as her lord to own.
Within this town some very rich men live;
But many more who poverty receive
As their low birthright, with the fullest share
Of its attendants, constant toil and care!
These oft, though poor, in honesty may vie
With most of those who hold their heads so high.
Of this large class young COOPER'S parents were;
To peace inclined, they heeded not the stir
Which proud Ambition's votaries create
To gain such objects as their pride may sate.

E'er since this father was a little boy,
Hard out-door labor did his hands employ.
The mother, too, to work was early taught,
And take delight in what her hands had wrought.
This hardy training proved of use to them,
A blessing they did never once contemn;
For 'twas the means of gaining honest bread-
And on no other would they e'er be fed!

In course of time four children needed care,
And claimed from them of food and clothes a share.
Nor did they grudge them what they could afford-
For they had learned to live and serve the Lord!
But soon Affliction, with her visage dire,
Called them to pass through purifying fire!
And first a smiling girl was snatched away-
The mother next, to Death became a prey.
The father, too, was sick, and laid aside
For many weeks; thus sorely was he tried.
Anon their pet, a lovely infant, died,
And she was laid by her dear mother's side.
Such fearful strokes, to one in poverty,
Were hard to bear, as all may clearly see.
But this poor man, all strong in holy faith,
Was led to take a proper view of death-
E'en to regard him as an enemy
Conquered by Him who died on Calvary-
And view his loved ones but as gone before.
To Canaan's blest and truly happy shore!

Ere long the Lord a partner did prepare
To aid this Christian, and his sorrow share.
She had for many years in service been;
Of careful habits, in good pay I ween.
And this enabled her to lay aside
A goodly sum, and keep her needs supplied.
This virtuous woman thus became 'a crown'
To that poor man, by trials well bowed down.
And by her cleverness in housewif'ry,
With constant practice of economy,
The family soon enjoyed a greater share
Of household comforts, and had much less care.

Thus early schooled, our WILLIAM grew apace,
And though still young, wore oft a thoughtful face.
By nature studious, and of ready turn,
He needful tasks most eagerly did learn.
And being inquisitive, 'twas his desire
On winter nights, and by their frugal fire,
That his dear father should to him make known
What kind of ancestry they chanced to own.
To this the father, with a smiling face,
Soon made reply, 'We spring from noble race!
Long, long ago, I can in truth declare,
A wandering Minstrel visited a fair,
And there saw one of very noble blood,
Who liked him well and deemed his music good.
They soon contrived each others' minds to learn,
And felt Love's flame within their bosoms burn;
But knowing well this would not be allowed,
Disguised, away they fled amongst a crowd.
Soon they were fast in honest wedlock tied;
And thus the Minstrel gained a lovely bride!
Yet were they destined not to live in peace-
For ELLEN'S brother vowed he would not cease
To search for them through all the country wide,
And quick return with ELLEN at his side!
Long time he searched, then gave them up for lost,
And proved his boasting vain, unto his cost.
But on one night he, weary, sad and faint,
Espied a house, and to that house he went-
Just reached the threshold, and sank down quite spent.
The fair young mistress, with a piteous eye,
Beheld the man, and feared that he would die.
She loosed his vest, then laid his bosom bare,
And spied a mark which well might make her stare.
It was her brother! and her gentle heart
With love o'erflowed to act a sister's part.
Most earnest efforts quick the man restored,
And ELLEN felt most grateful to the Lord.
She, fully conscious of strict rectitude,
Confessed her kindred, and for pardon sued.
The astonished brother clasped her in his arms;
Their early love afresh their spirit warms,
And all his hatred very soon disarms.
This Minstrel, with his lovely ELLEN, were
Our ancestors, as you may well infer.'

[Footnote: In proof that the above legend has some foundation in fact,
I may state that one of my hero's cousins in England has a gold headed
cane, and another a splendid jasper snuff-box, both said to have been
left by the party who came to seek the runaway lady.]

Young COOPER heard, and could not well conceal
Some stirring thoughts that he began to feel.
He still was of a very tender age;
Far, far too young to feel Ambition's rage.
But he had heard of Dukes, and Earls, and Lords,
And all the splendor which their rank affords;
Had seen in prints their castles and their halls;
Had heard of servants who obeyed their calls;
Of their vast parks, well filled with noble deer,
Their tables loaded with the best of cheer;
Of horses, carriages, and fleetest hounds,
And cattle feeding over all their grounds;
Of gardens filled with precious fruits and flowers,
And of sweet music to beguile their hours;
Fancied their mansions full of lovely girls,
With beauteous eyes, and richly flowing curls;
In short, conceived that these men were no less
Than mighty lords whom every eye should bless.
And 'twas no wonder if in reverie
This boy indulged with greatest frequency.

But years flew by, with all their constant care,
New hopes, new scenes, and feelings of despair.
He owning still a constitution weak,
Would better health in change of air oft seek.
At times like these, his second mother's care
Did send him forth with relatives to fare.
And then sweet Crossthwaite, with its paper mill,
Its pretty brooks, and many a trickling rill,
With dearest pleasure would his bosom fill.
Deep gratitude impels him now to pay
A tribute due to relatives, and say
That purer kindness could not be displayed
To any one who needed friendly aid,
Than they still showed to him while living there,
As their own child, he did their goodness share.
Dear, aged friends! grim Death has laid you low,
And you no more to him can kindness show!

Often thy scenery, fair Underbarrow,
Has cheered his spirit and dispelled his sorrow!
Thy hazel copses, and thy rugged Scaur,
With yellow-blooming whins have banished far
All thoughts of his poor, weak and sickly frame,
And raised his love of Nature to a flame!
Yes, often now, though living o'er the sea,
And many years have fled since he saw thee,
Dear Memory brings thy early charms to view,
And all their pleasures to his mind seem new!
Again, fresh scenes would his attention crave,
Ev'n noble Windermere with rippling wave;
And frequently he crossed o'er its short ferry,
In huge flat-boats, or pleasant sailing wherry,
And viewed, well pleased, its many lovely isles,
Clothed with rich verdure and sweet Summer's smiles;
Or watched the fishes, darting to and fro,
As o'er its crystal waves the boat would go;
And still remembers those rich wooded hills,
While deep emotion all his spirit thrills.
Sometimes tired Nature would assert her sway,
Then gloomy thoughts rose up in dark array;
He thus would wander, weary and alone,
Listening the breezes in their fitful moan,
As in their anger they swept through the woods,
While thunder-clouds sent down their copious floods,
And ask himself, in bitterness of soul,
Why he his destiny could not control?
Why some were wealthy, and could take their ease,
And ride about wherever they should please?
While he, poor lad, on foot his weary way
Kept plodding still, till nearly close of day!

At other times a pleasant lodge was seen,
Where life seemed spent in happiness serene;
Its graceful lawn, its gardens and its fields,
Spoke loudly of the comfort money yields;
And oft he vainly dreamed that he possessed
Just such a home, and with such comforts blest.
Sweet day-dreams these, quite frequently indulged;
Too oft, alas! were all his thoughts divulged.

Before him soon more charming views arise,
Enchanting scenes meet everywhere his eyes.
See Low Wood Inn, a sweet, secluded spot,
Most lovely sight, not soon to be forgot!
It stands upon the margin of the lake-
And of it all things round conspire to make
A mansion such as poets well might choose-
Fit habitation for the heaven-born Muse!
Well might he linger with entranced delight,
Though Sol gave warning of approaching night.
Aroused by this, ere long he forward hied
To that small village still called Ambleside.
We now again will cross with him the lake,
And thence the road that leads to Hawkshead take;
There Esthwaite water on a smaller scale
Unfolds her beauties, to adorn my tale.
She, like a mirror, on her silvery face
Reflects the mansions that her margins grace.
Those mansions fair are seen on every hand,
(What may not wealth, in such a place, command?)
And mark their owners men of wealth and taste;
Not miserly, nor yet inclined to waste.

Near this small lake does a rude hamlet stand,
In which there dwelt a poor, hard-working band.
The parents, both, were well advanced in age,
And yet, from kindness, they at once engage
To give this youth a welcome to their board,
And all the comforts that their means afford.
To see him happy was their chief desire,
Which did his soul with gratitude inspire.
They now are dead! Oh, may their ashes rest
In peace, and still their memories be bless'd!
WILLIAM oft thinks of all the pleasant scenes
He there enjoyed before he reached his teens;
And well remembers how he loved to stray
By that pure lake, soon after break of day.
'Twas at such time, that once he chanced to spy
A splendid pike upon the beach quite dry
He viewed the prize; it had not long been dead,
As he well knew by looking at its head.
Surprised, he gazed about, on every hand,
But saw no soul upon the lake or land;
Then thought, since no one came the fish to claim,
Take it he might, and yet incur no blame.
This settled in his mind, without delay
He seized the fish, and carried it away.
When he reached home, friends thought it would be best
'Gainst noon-tide hour to have it nicely dressed.
But candor now obliges me to say,
That the right owner soon appeared next day;
Who said he lately caught a noble pike,
And laid it carefully beside a dyke;
But, while he went still farther up the lake,
To draw some lines, and other fishes take,
A dog, or person, had purloined that one:
A cousin told him WILL the deed had done!
Told how he brought to them, with boyish glee,
As fine a pike as ever one could see!
This heard, the loser took it in good part,
Enjoyed the joke, and showed a kindly heart.

Hail, human kindness! Often have I been
Indebted to thee for same pleasing scene;
Although our race have sadly fallen low,
Thou still appearest like the heavenly bow,
Amidst the storms of human passion now;
And where, dear Angel, thou art to be found,
Sweet peace and comfort flow to all around!

An incident I now would introduce
Which may, perchance, be now and then of use
In leading youths to greater carefulness,
When to sweet pleasure they themselves address.
Near Esthwaite's foot exists a lonely spot,
Named by the country people 'The Priest's Pot';
A strange, deep hole, with crystal water filled,
By land surrounded which was never tilled;
Of spongy texture, yielding to the foot-
Quite full of danger is this marshy spot.
To this place WILLIAM once a fishing went,
And, ere his patience was completely spent,
Took up a fresh position; but, alas!
His foothold proved but little else than grass.
While sinking fast he, with a fluttering heart,
Gave one quick spring and reached a firmer part.
This proved a lesson which he ne'er forgot-
He visited no more that dreaded spot.

Before this time, for years, he went to school,
And caught some learning by the common rule;
In parsing showed a fair amount of skill,
Wrote a plain hand, and read with right good will;
Almost a 'book-worm,' seemed he to devour
What books he got, and read from hour to hour.
And, oh! how pleased and gratified was he,
To hear the Master read sweet poetry!
Once he read well a very touching tale,
In which the Poet does the lot bewail
Of orphan 'Lubin,' who, while tending sheep
For a hard master, oft was seen to weep.
While this pathetic tale was read aloud,
The tears to WILLIAM'S eyes would quickly crowd;
And from that time a Poet he became-
In joy or sorrow felt a glowing flame.
Though still so young he, at this very time,
Oft framed rude numbers, and poured forth his rhyme;
And 'twas no wonder if, by Nature taught,
He wrapped himself in sweet poetic thought.
He, to this day, is pleased to recollect
What few, who knew him then, would e'er suspect-
How much he loved to wander in the woods,
And watch the trees put forth their opening buds;
Or list the sound created by the wind,
Which sought a passage through the leaves to find.
He also loved, with wonder and delight,
To gaze on flowers bedecked with glory bright;
On polyanthus and auriculas,
In pleasing contrast with the ribbon-grass;
On wall-flower, too, with richest odor filled,
Like sweet frankincense daintily distilled;
On roses fair, in great variety
Of scent and color; and the peony,
Or scented violet, which scarce shows its head,
Yet does its odor o'er the garden shed;
On prince's feather, wearing stately plume,
With much of show, but nothing of perfume;
Loved tulips, lilies, pinks and gilliflowers,
With woodbines trained o'er lovely garden bowers,
That give forth sweetness and their charms display,
While, in rich robes, they stand in full array;
The foxglove, daisy, and demure monk's-hood,
With lilacs, and the scented southern wood;
The guelder-rose, with its fair, whited balls,
And creeping plants, high climbing up the walls,
These at all times our hero warmly loved,
And showed it, too, when he in gardens roved.
While, to himself, he had a patch of ground,
Where, at his leisure, he was mostly found.
Thus passed, most pleasantly, his youthful days,
All intermingled with his boyish plays,
And sometimes meriting a need of praise.

Hail, Holidays! To you, with great delight,
The schoolboy looks-exulting with his might
At the fair prospect of enjoying play,
Or visiting relations far away.
Ere your propitious dawn he lays his schemes,
And pleased, rejoices in his bright day dreams.
He, in anticipation, views the charm
Of being for days exempt from birchen harm!
When, free from tasks-nor caring much for books-
With some companion he can fish the brooks;
Can ramble through the woods for flowers or nuts,
Play with fair girls who live in sylvan huts,
Mount with agility some green hill top,
And, with a mate, roll full length down the slope;
Or take his fill from loaded bramble bushes,
Or from rich fruit bedecked in Autumn's blushes.
Such is the bliss that's placed before his view,
In all its fulness, Holidays! by you.
And thus, without a single shade of sorrow,
He greets his mates with 'Holiday to-morrow!'
These pleasures seem unto his boyish mind
Of the right sort-and for schoolboys designed.
He seldom thinks of all the anxious care
His parents feel, to give their son a share
Of useful learning, that he may discharge
His part to God, to them, and men at large.

Apprentices as well with pleasure hail
Their holidays-O, may they never fail!
These are too often spent in idleness,
Or such sad courses as brings them distress.
This is the case when grog-shops they frequent;
For ruin follows time and means ill spent.
Pause, O, ye youths! before you yet begin
A course that may lead you to every sin!
Restrain your feet from entering those holes
Which prove the ruin of so many souls.
Would ye not pause, if right across your path
There lay a monstrous serpent, full of wrath?
Would we, fool-hardy, rush into his jaws
To certain death? or would ye rather pause?
Youths, ye have cause, yea, weighty cause, to dread
This horrid serpent, on strong liquor fed,
Which lurks in every place where Rum is sold,
Though they may be all covered o'er with gold-
They often are; nor deem it hard of faith-
The way to present and eternal death!

God does by His most holy Book declare,
'Into God's kingdom none shall enter there,
Who liquor drink till drunkards they become!'
Yet, day by day, some meet this awful doom.
Oh, warning take! Flee from this dreadful crime!
Pause and consider, while you yet have time!

Listen the story which to you I tell;
Dwell on its moral-mark the sequel well;
Then look abroad, and see its counterpart
In many a case that shows a broken heart.

DAYCOURT was a youth, possessed of wealth-
Had manly beauty and the best of health;
In learning he excelled-was quite a wit-
And oft indulged in a deep musing fit.
Of very warm and truly tender heart,
He did his best to act a proper part;
Which made him much respected all around-
Against him, filled with envy, none were found.
His widowed mother, then, might well be proud
Of such a son, and speak his praises loud.
He bore for her respect, and strove to prove
In many ways the fulness of his love.

For many years this widow, in her grief,
Looked up to God, and found from him relief.
She knew the Lord, before her husband died,
And found Him one in whom she could confide;
In all her trials meekly bowed her head,
And found sweet peace was o'er her bosom shed.
Her son, to her, was all a son could be-
Yet on one point she felt anxiety:
He had not then experienced the New Birth,
And his best thoughts had all been of the Earth.

Adjoining their estate was living one-
A blithe young lady, who in beauty shone;
With health endowed, and with fair learning graced,
By wealth in easy circumstances placed.
AMELIA DOVE we well may call her name-
Like that sweet bird she seemed exempt from blame.
Her parents loved her-they could do no less-
She was the soul of all their happiness!
Early she rose, and, dressed in neat array,
Assisted her dear mother through the day.
Thus passed her time, beloved by all around-
She was as good a girl as could be found;
And a fair match for DAYCOURT all conceived-
This he himself had for some time believed.
They loved each other, and obtained consent
From their kind parents, and were well content.
And, having leisure, they would often walk,
Or, sitting in some bower, would sing and talk;
Or else they read some book which both admired,
Till their young hearts with ecstacy were fired;
Through hill and dale-through woods-were wont to rove,
Well pleased with all they saw, they drank in love!

The day arrived when DAYCOURT and his bride
Were at the altar in pure wedlock tied.
The day was spent as such like days have been,
And passed away in happiness serene.
At night, a bounteous marriage-feast was spread,
And Love's sweet influence over all seemed shed.
The friends invited strove to show their joy,
In wishing happiness without alloy
To that young couple, who, in youthful bloom,
Were the admired of all in that large room.
But, Oh! I shrink! 'Tis my ungracious task
From bliss like this to tear away the mask!
On such occasions wine's oft made to flow-
As if it were the source of joy below!

The bridegroom felt in a most merry mood,
And drank each health till his young, joyous blood
Coursed through his veins as if quite all on fire,
And his kind thoughts gave place to bad desire.
His brain began to whirl-he boisterous grew-
All eyes on him, observant, quickly drew-
He seized a bottle, which he madly threw.
Sad to relate! it struck his beauteous bride!
And she fell dead, by her dear mother's side.
This dread catastrophe soon sobered him,
And he was sick, and felt his eyes grow dim.
But while all stood in terror and dismay,
He roused himself, and fled from thence away;
Then headlong rushed into a deep, deep, stream-
And thus was ended that bright, youthful dream!
The pious mother tried in God to trust,
But this dire blow soon sank her in the dust.
Her parents, too, felt this most dreadful stroke
Too hard to bear, for both their hearts it broke!

Oh, cruel Liquor! Thou hast millions slain,
And still their death-throes cry to thee in vain!
Ten thousand broken hearts may soon be found
In almost every land the world around.
Millions of orphans' cries thine ears assail,
While parents' early death they loud bewail;
The prisons and asylums which we build,
From thy sad victims' ranks are chiefly filled.
War's dreadful ravages are justly blamed;
But war with thee deserves not to be named!
And still, insatiate monster! thy dread jaws
Are daily filled-being unrestrained by laws!
When will the day, the happy day, arrive,
When thee the injured nations forth shall drive?

Beware, Apprentices! In time beware!
Flee from those places which would you insnare;
Regard that man as your real enemy,
Who, tempting, leads to inebriety!
Now, while you daily toil, I wish you may
Have many a truly happy holiday!

The hero of my tale of such had some,
And felt well pleased whenever they did come.
On such occasions he was wont to go
To visit friends, who did much kindness show.
With ardent joy full beaming in his face,
He more than once revisited the place
Where his dear father spent his youthful days,
In toilsome labor, or in childish plays.
To him 'twas still a sweetly quiet spot,
A picture of content-a small, neat cot-
And just beneath the hill called Farleton Knot.

He had a strange, romantic turn of mind;
To taste adventure ever felt inclined.
This being premised, we may expect to see,
That by slight dangers undeterred was he
From venturing to the edge of precipice,
To have a peep into some dark abyss.
The hill of which I spoke has sometimes been,
As was well known, the site of tragic scene.
It is a solid mass of limestone rock-
And there oft falls some huge misshapen block.
On one occasion a poor quarryman
Saw danger pending, and away he ran;
'Twas all in vain! the lately-riven stone
Came thundering down, and crushed his every bone!
A tale like this might well some minds appal-
But WILLIAM felt, just then, of dauntless soul;
And, with his cousin, hasted up the hill,
With eager steps and most unyielding will;
A scene there met his gaze which him repaid,
And threw the toil required far in the shade.

On every hand a charming prospect lay,
In all the beauty of a bright Spring day.
All Nature smiled, in loveliest green confessed,
Like a fair maiden for her bridal drest.
And songsters of the grove, no longer sad,
Their notes were warbling forth to make her glad.
And need we wonder then, if there he stood,
With glowing heart, and wrapt in musing mood?
As was his wont, he felt a strong desire
From such sweet views to draw poetic fire.
And so it was, for out his numbers flowed,
Which, quickly penned, he on his friends bestowed.
And though these numbers were but very rude,
They were, by rustic friends, with wonder viewed.
While he stood there his thoughts were backward thrown
To days which on Time's fleetest wing had flown-
When his grandfather, in that humble cot,
With sweet contentedness enjoyed his lot;
Wrought quietly at his most lowly trade,
And honest lived-though small the profits made.
In his mind's eye, he saw his father climb
Those rugged cliffs, in youth, or manhood's prime;
Or, with his brothers join in lively play,
On the long evenings of each Summer day.
Anon would view the time when each forsook
That humble cottage, some fresh toil to brook;
Saw them all settled in a wedded life-
In honest work employed, exempt from strife.
Or glanced at some of his own early days-
When he gave up, on Saturdays, his plays,
To go with his dear grandfather, to sell
The neat bee-hives the old man framed so well.
And often wondered what made selfish men
Try at less price those bee-hives to obtain;
And why the tears would oft the eyes bedim
Of that old man, when they thus bantered him?
And then with lightning speed his thoughts would stray,
To when his grandfather was ta'en away,
To meet in church-yard with his kindred clay.
As thus he stood and mused, his cousin's call
Roused him again to consciousness of all
The widespread beauties of that landscape bright
And he, reluctant, left the beauteous sight.

To hint at all he saw my time would fail,
And might too much but lengthen out my tale.
Suffice it, therefore, just for me to say,
That he spent pleasantly each holiday.

Ere this, when he was in his fourteenth year,
Amongst the Temperance ranks he did appear;
Attended meetings, heard the speeches made,
And grew indignant at the liquor trade.
He signed the pledge-the strict 'teetotal' pledge-
And felt determined constant war to wage
Against the huge, fierce monster, Drunkenness
Which caused, on every hand, such sore distress.
A drunken parent he had never had-
The Lord preserved him from a fate so sad!
But still his fervent soul was filled with grief,
From which he vainly strove to gain relief,
So long as this dread vice o'erspread the land,
And strong drink's victims died, on every hand.
He thought upon the thing till bold he grew,
And framed a speech to tell of all he knew
Of this vile demon's doings in the world,
And wished that out of it he might be hurled.

Soon after this, from Canada there came
A Christian man; no matter what his name.
He long to WILLIAM'S parents had been known,
And hospitality to him was shown.
On that good country's merits much he dwelt,
And COOPER'S ears being open, soon he felt
A strong desire to reach that distant shore,
And all its giant wonders to explore.
Oft he had heard of its vast, splendid lakes,
Stupendous cataracts, and great cane-brakes;
Of boundless woods, well filled with noble trees
And hugest rivers rolling to the seas.
The man described quite well Niagara's falls,
Its thundering sound as it o'erleaps its walls;
He told the distance they could hear the sound,
And how with ceaseless roar it shook the ground;
Of Summer's heat, of the long Winter's cold,
And at what price the finest lands were sold.
This, and far more, the settler told the youth,
Who did regard it all as sterling truth,
And wished-but wished in vain-that he was free
To cross at once the stormy, deep blue sea.
No way appeared but quietly to wait
Till he was loosed, and grown to man's estate.
Some years must pass before that day arrive,
So to be patient he thought fit to strive.

One-half of his apprenticeship had fled,
And now he fairly earned his daily bread.
Of clothes, his parents' ever constant care
Provided him with quite a decent share.
Of pocket money he ne'er had a store,
His needs supplied, he did not care for more;
And his step-mother oft thought fit to say
That 'money burned his pockets all away.'
Howe'er it was, he never had a cent
But found a hole, and out of that it went!
Though still close-worked, he did contrive to spare
Some precious, time to spend in rhyming ware.
He read sweet COWPER'S poems through and through-
And, more he read, the more he liked them, too;
His 'Task' the most of all-an ample field-
What heart-felt pleasure it did to him yield!
Then MILTON'S lofty genius fired his soul,
Nor did he tire till he had read the whole.
Again began, and o'er the pages pored,
And drank the sweets with which they are well stored.
Then THOMPSON'S Seasons with delight he read,
And YOUNG'S Night Thoughts in mournful dress arrayed.
Some few sweet pieces he from BYRON drew,
And read poor BURNS with much advantage, too.
But of all poets he loved COWPER most,
For in Miltonic grandeur he was lost;
And THOMSON lacked that great variety
Which in sweet Olney's bard we clearly see.
Afflicted Poet! Thou didst well thy part,
By pouring balm into the wounded heart;
And while the world endures, thy verse will cheer
Poor down-cast souls, and bid them not to fear!

Nor did he read alone the poet's page,
Good books in prose would oft his mind engage:
For he had joined th' Mechanics' Institute-
And in its praises I would not be mute.
Mechanics! It deserves your best support,
And to its rooms you often should resort.
There you may learn from books to act your parts,
While they refine and elevate your hearts.

He with great travelers took delight to roam
In distant countries, far away from home;
And frequently has dropped a silent tear
O'er PARK'S great trials in the desert drear.
Oh! who can read of all his heart-felt woes-
His frequent sufferings, and his dying throes-
And fail to dropp a sympathetic tear
For his sad end-without a friend to cheer!

In LANDERS' patient, persevering toil,
Through greatest dangers, on wild Afric's soil,
He felt the deepest interest, and partook
Their joys and sorrows, while he read their book.
And hailed, with pleasure and unfeigned delight,
The happy moment when the welcome sight
Of Niger's junction with the great deep sea
A period put to their sad misery!

Read BRUCE, whose book, received with cold distrust,
Was only prized when he was laid in dust.
And HUMBOLDT, the admired of all mankind,
Of gentle manners and accomplished mind;
Who scaled the lofty Andes' snow-clad towers,
Where danger lurks, and fell destruction lowers.
And COOK, who bravely sailed around the Earth-
A friend to man-ev'n man of lowest birth.
Whose peaceful voyages to each far coast
Were for man's benefit-as we may boast--
Yet at sad price, since his dear life was lost!
Of warlike heroes' lives he read a few,
And of War's horrors thus obtained a view-
Which made him sick at heart, nor wish to know
More of man's bloody doings here below.

His sober and industrious conduct gained
The Master's confidence-which he retained;
And so, in services requiring trust
He was employed, and still continued just.
Sometimes to distant places he was sent-
And well he did enjoy the time thus spent.
It scope afforded to reflective powers-
And thus he profited by these spare hours.
Greatly did it delight him to behold
Fair Nature glittering in green and gold:
And the pure melody in different groves
Reminded him of his own early loves;
Or led him to break out, with tuneful voice,
In some sweet hymn, which made his heart rejoice.
For he had now begun to feel the worth
Of Heavenly things, and pour God's praises forth.

In this way, once he passed through Dallam Park,
To see its deer, and other objects mark.
These lovely creatures to his mind did seem
Most unfit objects of man's sporting dream.
He greatly wondered how some men could be
E'er guilty of, such wanton cruelty,
As to pursue, with horses and with hounds,
Such harmless creature over all their grounds;
Hunt him o'er swamps and fields, and mountain slopes,
Through pebbly streams, or shady hazel copse,
Till they have driven him at last to bay,
Toward the close of some most sultry day.
Wondered how any one, with tearless eye,
Could mark his sufferings, and then watch him die.
Oh, cruel man! when will thy thirst for blood
Be turned to energy in doing good?
When will Creation's groans come to an end,
And men delight in love their days to spend?
While such reflections occupied his mind,
The place he went to seek he strives to find,
And is successful; gets his business done,
Then back pursues his homeward way alone.

Now Fancy wings her flight; I view again
Scenes which my memory will long retain;
See Kent-unsung-flow on in winding course
Through woods and fields, with very gentle force;
Or where, by Sedgwick's side, its waters pour
O'er jagged rocks, with never-ceasing roar;
Or where they smoothly glide past Leven's hall,
Sweet landscapes forming, which can never pall
The minds of those who love a beauteous scene,
And wish to spend a day in bliss serene.
For there this stream just flows as if by stealth
Through splendid parks-past gardens formed by wealth!
I oft look back to those most gladsome hours
Spent, while a schoolboy, in those garden bowers;
Where tall box-trees are trimmed to various shapes-
Old women-pitchers-or, it may be-apes!
Where plants and beauteous flowers are ever found,
To breathe out fragrance all the garden round.

'Tis time for me to curb my vagrant Muse;
A subject waits my pen she well may choose.
Now aid me, O my God! who dwell'st above,
While I attempt to sing Redeeming Love!
Nor let one line, or word, be writ by me
Not in accordance with that Mystery!
May I, to profit fellow-sinners, strive,
And good from this for my own soul derive.

Hail, Hope! thou gem-decked Maid, with features fair!
Fairer than fabled goddesses of air.
I still regarded thee as sprung from God;
As sent to us from his divine abode,
With the sweet sisters, holy Faith and Love,
That favored mortals might your virtues prove.
Led on by thee, we pass through heavy trial,
Requiring ever constant self-denial,
Unscathed, yet ridded of defiling dross,
To find ourselves the better for its loss.
Prompted by thee, we scale vast mountain heights;
Or take to Earth's far bounds most rapid flights;
Face dreadful storms; yea, greatest dangers brave,
And, unappalled, view the deep, yawning grave!
In every age thy praise have Poets sung;
Throughout the world thy praise has loudly rung
So much and often, that I need not dwell
Upon thy worth: for it were hard to tell
The millionth part of good thou hast achieved;
By finite man it cannot be conceived!
Thy sovereign virtues WILLIAM deeply felt,
Howe'er engaged, and wheresoe'er he dwelt.
In constant toil, and chilled by Penury,
He knew 'twas blessed to be cheered by thee.
Thou madest him content in low estate,
And for Prosperity to patient wait;
Till some, who thought his course deserved much blame,
Were led to full approval of the same.

More weeks went past, and his kind patron bought
Both tools and stock; when he with vigor wrought
In a small shop, and did his best to give
Due satisfaction, and made out to live.

Throughout the country nothing now was heard
Save talk of Civil war; yet undeterred
Was he, by what was going on around,
From his employment; and kept gaining ground.
The village of brave Soldier's was quite full,
And they, alone, made business far from dull.
When he at first commended, he made a rule
For which some folks then deemed him quite a fool
To make good work and cheap, and have his pay
For all he sold; and this he did always.
He had been taught to look Honesty
As the best part of Business policy;
And his experience fully proved the truth
Of that old maxim learned in early youth.

Meanwhile, as worldly prospects brighter grew,
To marriage state he turned his thoughts anew,
And made proposals for that lovely maid;
Nor was disapprobation once displayed
By either parent, who gave full consent,
As she, to marry him, was quite content.
Though not a 'first love,' their's remained still true,
And smoothly ran-was ever fresh and new!

His humble home, and shop, were all in one,
And looked, to others' eyes, most woe-begone!
It was for business truly quite unfit;
Yet customers still found their way to it.
Back from the street-up some half dozen stairs-
Two boards, on barrels, held his shining wares!
On one side high-the other very low-
And all unplastered; it was quite a show!
At one end stood his bench, and close beside it
Lay his rude couch; let not the rich deride it!

At times, he rose from off that humble bed
With a fair snow-wreath close about his head!

One bitter night, some loyal Volunteers
Were quartered on him; and he told his fears,
That much of comfort could not there be found,
In such a room, with all his fixtures round.
One made reply which went to WILLIAM'S heart,
And proved that man had 'chosen the good part'-
''Tis better,' said he, 'than our Savior had;
Of such a lodging He would have been glad!'

Our hero, with his hand-tools got along,
At best, but slowly; and sometimes went wrong.
It was no easy thing to ascertain
What kind of goods a ready sale would gain.
His brother Tinsmith showed no friendly spirit;
He deemed him far too low in workman-merit!
And threatened vauntingly to drive him out:
But God's rich blessing compassed him about!
His patterns he contrived, as best he could;
And every month, as tradesman, firmer stood.
His constant visits to his future bride,
Much of sweet pleasure every time supplied.
Rare worth and beauty did the maid possess;
To see her was to taste of happiness!
She was too lovely, and too gentle, far,
For one whose mind was very oft ajar;
So humble, that she left her father's house,
With all its comforts, to become his spouse.
The home which he for that fair girl provided,
By most young lasses would have been derided.
'Twas just the farthest half of his rude shop,
Lined with planed boards on all sides, and the top;
Quite small in size, 'twas amply furnished,
With stove, three chairs, a table, box and bed!

In March, his natal month, through sleet and rain,
He bore his wife, who did not once complain.
No wedding jaunt could their small means afford,
Yet they had pleasure in true love's accord;'
And what they lacked in way of outward show,
Was quite made up by warm affection's glow.
They were a happy couple, with warm hearts:
Both striving eagerly to act their parts.
If ever twain were blended into one,
'Twas in their case, as all who knew them own.
He, working soon and late to rid his debt;
She taking care of all he chanced to get.
And, with sweet smiles upon her face,
Dispelling of despondency each trace.

Too soon, the place in which their bliss begun.
Was made too hot by our Canadian sun.
A Bakery below, Sol's rays above,
With heat from stove made them most glad to move.
They next obtained a shop which answered well;
For all he made, they could most freely sell.
This place, however, they were forced to quit
In three months after they had entered it.
More than one person had on it a claim,
And each law-suit fanned their litigious flame,
Until at length it went to Chancery,
And that sage Court could on this thing agree-
To have it closed forthwith! And thus our friends
Were forced to move, once more, to gain their ends.
Each move brought double rent; but this became
A thing remembered only by its name.
Trade still increased, as did Experience, too,
And WILLIAM now had more than he could do.
But by this time he had assistance found
In his wife's brother, as apprentice bound;
A youth most active, and good-natured, too,
Who took delight in what he had to do.
The shop to which they went-last on the street-
Was, as a residence, to them most sweet.
Almost in front, a river calmly flowed;
Close by, a plain wood bridge the stream bestrode.
There, he could stand at his shop door and view
A scene which called up feelings ever new.
Above the bridge, for nearly half a mile,
It is most lovely, clad in Summer's smile.
Tall trees, of various kinds, its margins grace,
While it flows on, with ever gentle pace,
Past two small islands; each one like a gem
Set in the stream so softly passing them.
There, often has he sat, on summer's eve,
With his fair bride, both loath the scene to leave.
Lit up by Luna's beams, 'twould larger seem,
And scope afford for sweet poetic dream.
One island he would picture as the site
Of a neat mansion, where he might, at night,
Retire from business cares to take a boat.
And on the surface of the river float
With his most charming-his most loving wife;
Content to leave behind all worldly strife.
Such freaks would Fancy play, when he inclined
To let her reign sole Monarch of his mind!
Yet, when the spell was broke, the sweets of home
Were such, that from them he ne'er wished to roam.
And thus days, weeks and months most smoothly passed,
Till Winter came, each beauteous scene to blast.
Now, with new hopes, alas! came fears as well,
The strength of which it is not mine to tell.
But those who once have fond, young husbands been,
May well conceive what hopes and fears I mean.
Scarce bad December sealed the Frost-King's reign,
Ere these true hearts a Love's-pledge did obtain.

Protracted labor, bringing sore distress,
Came nigh extinguishing their happiness!
This oft led WILLIAM to the Mercy Seat;
And, oh, his visits there were truly sweet!
Nor was it vain; two precious lives were spared,
And the young parents were, afresh, prepared
To grapple with their duties-growing large-
Conscious of weakness in their full discharge.
The babe proved cross and fretful; and, for years,
Frequent convulsive fits filled them with fears;
And quite unfitted her, in after life,
For bearing a just share of toil and strife.
This proved an exercise for faith and prayer,
Until the fully felt that God's kind care
Would be extended o'er their suffering child;
And this thought made their souls more reconciled,
To bear with patience this great, frequent trial,
Which called on them so much for self-denial.

A growing interest now in Church affairs
Filled that young father's mind with weighty cares.
At this my readers need not be surprised;
Nor should my notice of it be despised.
That Church on Scripture truth had ta'en its stand,
And wished to bend alone to God's command-
To copy, in their government, the plan
Marked out by Christ, when first His Church began.
Now they sought one well qualified to take
The Elder's office-not for lucre's, sake,
Nor 'as a lord o'er God's own heritage'-
But one who humbly would, with warmth, engage
To do His bidding, and bear peaceful rule
O'er that small Church-that it might prove a school
For Saints to grow in strict conformity
To God's just will-as they that will may see.

One soon they found, who had for years been tried:
Who by Paul's test was willing to abide;
Well knowing the advice which he had given
To Ephesian Elders; and how he had striven
To labor with his hands for the support
Of self and friends, oft made the worldling's sport.

Let none imagine that this flock obtained
Another's labor for some selfish end;
Large sums they raise to help the suffering poor,
And freely give of their superfluous store
To send the Bible into heathen lands-
And that while all are laboring with their hands.
This testimony I would bear of them;
'Tis strictly true, whoever may contemn.

As deacons they chose WILLIAM and another,
Who was regarded as a worthy brother.
In God's pure sight they viewed themselves unfit
For such high office; yet accepted it
In deference to their brethren, who made choice
Of them at once, without dissenting voice.
'Twas thus it came that he had many cares,
Beside his family's and trade's affairs.
In preaching now he took his regular turn,
And, though but weakly, did with ardor burn
To tell poor sinners of a Savior's love,
Or Saints instruct in lessons from Above.
He 'midst those labors found, with sore distress,
A constant warfare mar his happiness.
Dyspepsia-fell disease-his stomach seized,
And, like a demon, would not be appeased;
But made his temper, far too quick and warm,
By frequent outbursts often work him harm.
This grieved the heart of his beloved wife,
And might have led to constant family strife,
Had not the Lord to him his folly shown,
By greater chastisement than he had known.

And now our friends possessed sufficient means
To pay their debt, or purchase those machines
Which tinsmiths use; and WILLIAM asked his friend
If he, conveniently, could longer lend
What they were owing him? His kind reply
Led COOPER soon the needful tools to buy.
This was an era in their history,
And they most gladly work more actively
In manufacturing their humble wares,
Or giving to old things their due repairs.
While freely pushing their close labor through,
They still found plenty for the two to do;
Which called on them for greater thankfulness
To their kind God, who did their business bless.
While thus engaged, pray tell me where's the wrong,
If they should sing the following 'Tinsmith's Song?'


TINSMITH'S SONG.

What though our bench labor rob us of the favor
Enjoyed by the farmer, 'midst fair Country scenes;
What though 'tis confining to make up tins shining,
There's naught in the trade which our conduct demeans,
Then ply the shears, since it appears
That our calling is honest and fair;
Yet take good heed, lest, in our speed,
We should send from our hands leaky ware!

In using the folder we then may grow bolder,
And form and groove pans with our consciences clear;
Drive each of the turners with skill beyond learners,
And put in stout wire with our hearts full of cheer.
Then take a burr and make it whirr,
As the bottoms spin round like a 'top;'
And fit these tight, which is but right
If we wish a good name for the shop.

In this case the setter will do the work better,
And strong double seams will repay all our pains;
But slight not the soldering, or customers ordering
Their work at our hands will begrudge us our gains.
This we can do and yet push through
Quite a good share of labor each day,
And in our sales of pans or pails
Boldly ask those who buy for our pay.

We thus may be working, no selfishness lurking
Within, though the weather be cloudy or cold;
And lawfully striving our trade still be driving
From far better motives than mere thirst for gold.
Then we may serve and never swerve
From strict duty's plain, straightforward path,
Our country's weal with fervid zeal
By skill which each artisan hath.

O! then our bench labor may bring us the favor
Of a jaunt now and then midst the forests and fields,
Which pleasure so joyous can never annoy us,
If health and contentment it constantly yields.
Then ply the shears, since it appears
That our calling is honest and fair;
Yet take good heed lest in our speed.
We should send from our hands leaky ware.



And now these parents' hearts were rendered glad
By a sweet babe as ever parents had;
A lovely boy, a precious first-born son,
An April flower ere Spring had well begun.
Thus were their family and cares increased
While pleasure was not lessened in the least.
But a few months were destined to disclose
A lengthy list of what some think are woes.
Three serious accidents that year befel
His aged father, and 'twere hard to tell
The weary months of suffering he endured
Ere loss of limb to him relief procured.
Their patron, too, was by sore sickness brought
Down to death's door, as all who saw him thought
WILLIAM at last was on a sick-bed thrown
For many weeks, and then was fully shown
The fervent love and patience of his wife
Increasing still through years of after life.
Bereft of reason, as his friends declared,
Rich consolation he at all times shared.
Death-man's 'last foe'-for him no terrors had,
His blighted prospects did not make him sad.
To leave his wife and babes he was resigned,
And this while all deemed him of unsound mind.
The tempter, true, his faith and feelings tried,
But his suggestions met 'God will provide.'
This simple text was strong enough to stay
Each wavering thought that rose from day to day.

The time when he fell sick was in the Fall,
When lively business made most pressing call.
And yet he was enabled to abide
Content with this, 'Jehovah will provide,'
Ev'n so he did, and that in wondrous way,
For his wife's brother worked both night and day,
A striking instance of unselfishness
But rarely seen in youths of such a class.

Though outward things looked dark, this chastisement
Was plainly from a loving father sent;
And they saw constant reason to rejoice
That what is painful might be made their choice.
For, while it weaned their thoughts from things of earth
It made them prize the more their heavenly birth.
And ev'n their fond affection for each other
Was purified from that which tends to smother
The noblest energies of Christian souls,
And far too often their best thoughts controls.
This sickness showed, and that most strikingly,
How good a nurse this faithful wife could be.
Through all her trials she was quite resigned,
And not one murmuring thought rose in her mind.
A more attentive or enduring nurse
I'm very sure ne'er shone in poet's verse.
When his recovery was manifested
Her love and patience were severely tested.
For calomel caused him such great distress
He was oft found in fits of fretfulness.
But yet she meekly bore with his caprice
And her self-sacrifice did never cease.

He, when restored again to perfect health,
Grew far more conscious of the store of wealth
By him possessed in having such a wife
To act as helpmate through the storms of life.
And not long after, when their lovely boy
Was very sick, he did his skill employ
To soothe her sorrows by an artless lay
Exhorting her to make God's love her stay;
And holding up to view Heaven's perfect bliss,
He aimed to show that naught can come amiss
To those who all their hopes on Jesus rest,
And 'seek through His Atonement to be bless'd.'

Their child restored, their joys again increase,
For God's sweet service yields them constant peace.
He, constantly employed in hard bench work,
Let not a thirst for wealth within him lurk,
And was enabled to preserve his mind
So free from care that, when he felt inclined,
He could with ease bring all his thoughts to bear
On Scripture truths, and each with each compare,
Or let his fancy take her random flight
To bring from Dreamland some new-coined delight.
At other times would raise his tuneful voice
And sing sweet hymns which long had been his choice,
Or else recite some charming poetry
With touch of skill and much of energy.
At times his spouse, too, did her sewing bring,
And joined harmoniously God's praise to sing.
Thus mostly passed their time for months and years
In bliss too great to last, as it appears.
Meanwhile their debt most honestly was paid,
By which then prospects were much brighter made.
Yet gratitude glowed brightly in each heart,
To him who acted such a friendly part
As to lend money and then wait for years
In patience for the payment of arrears.

About this time they visited 'The Falls,'
As business was not urgent in its calls.
WILLIAM felt joyful in no trifling measure
With such a wife to share so great a pleasure,
And gladly spent his money and his time
To view with her that scenery sublime.
This jaunt gave both the most heartfelt delight,
And furnished her the first and only sight
She ever had of wonders there displayed,
Which were in Spring's fresh beauty then arrayed.
They stood and gazed, or sat in shady place,
With glowing feelings pictured in each face.
He greatly longed to have a dwelling near,
That he might oftener view scenes grown so dear.
But family needs would force themselves on him,
And those bright visions very soon grew dim.
Yet he inquiry made of settlers round
To learn what prospects then might there be found
Of earning a just living at his trade;
But this quite threw the project in the shade.
Then he thought fit to let 'well be' alone
Till clearer light should on the scheme be thrown.
Hopes next arose that he might yet revisit
Once every year, with pleasure more exquisite,
Those grand, unrivalled Falls with her he loved,
More lovely still now that her love was proved.
The sequel shows how little we foresee
Of good or evil in our destiny.
'Tis right; and this should make us place our trust
In God, our Father, ever wise and just.
Since naught can happen without His permission
Who orders our affairs with wise precision.

At the appointed time they home returned,
While love for it more strongly in them burned.
One Winter and two Summers now had passed
Since a fine boy upon their care was cast.
Again stern winter came, with cloudy skies
And howling blasts like some fell demon cries.
Dark, chill November had been ushered in,
With much of elemental strife and din,
When came another daughter, bright and fair,
To charm the hearts of that still loving pair.
The new come love pledge, as time swiftly flew,
In sweetest bands their souls more closely drew.
Increasing means more household comforts brought,
Not greatly coveted if they were sought.
They asked God day by day for such supplies
Of worldly blessings as He deemed most wise,
Took those most thankfully He kindly sent,
And with their lot, for most part, were content.
'Tis true that COOPER wished to spend more time
For the improvement of himself in rhyme,
But greater duties had a higher claim,
Neglect of which would bring upon him blame.
He therefore kept his muse in close subjection,
And gained God's blessing and most kind protection.
Yet now and then his pent up feelings broke
Through all restraint, and his rude harp awoke
To pour forth numbers with intent to cheer
Parents or friends, who lent a willing ear
To his effusions, void of learning's grace,
But full of feeling, which supplied its place.

Another Spring and Summer passed away,
Then Autumn, too, and Winter held the sway;
While January, when half its course was run,
Brought to our friends a second infant son.
Two of each kind parental love now claim,
As sharers of their destiny and name;
While years of happiness might seem in store
For, prosperous still, they loved each other more.
That season was their best in way of trade,
And thus their prospects wore no darkening shade.

Satan-arch enemy of all mankind-
Beheld with envy their true peace of mind,
And most maliciously employed his skill
To work them woe-defiant of God's will.
Their worldly property he did not touch,
For loss of this would not be felt so much
As trouble with their brethren in the church,
Severed from whom they might be left in lurch.
His plan succeeded, as I know too well,
For some deemed wise were held as by a spell
In hands of strongest preconceived opinion,
While Ignorance held them in his dominion.
WILLIAM had seen this long, and mourned in soul,
With such emotion as scarce brooked control,
And, knowing that they held it just and right
For all to seek increasing Scripture light,
He, in the search for truth, gave up his mind,
And was well pleased some few choice pearls to find.
These lustrous gems he had no wish to hide,
So held them up to view, and earnest tried
To lead his brethren to approve their worth;
But such a course gave to contention birth.
Nor was it long before occasion came
For those opposed to lay upon him blame,
The end of which was that they did him sever
From sweet communion with their church forever!
Under this blow he tried to bear up well,
But all he suffered 'twould be hard to tell.
His spouse and parents with him sympathised
And broke the bands which each so long had prized.
Naught now remained for them but to unite
In holy fellowship with purer light.
Soon some few other friends who knew their case
Their humble cause did with much warmth embrace.
One with our hero labored in the Word
With what small skill and time he could afford.
Things went on smoothly for about a year,
And some success did much their hearts to cheer.
Ere long, however, troubles unforeseen
Burst on the little band with shafts so keen
That WILLIAM'S faith and strength were sorely tried,
And with his lot he was dissatisfied.
One of the flock was easily led astray,
And self-indulgence held him in its sway.
Two others left because a change of view
Made several seek to be baptized anew.

Slow passed another very trying year,
And thick gloom gathered, filling them with fear.
Our friend was sick from an unquiet mind,
While Comfort-wonted guest-he failed to find.
At last his loved, his idolized wife
In her accouchment left this mortal life.
Schooled long, he firmly bore this heavy stroke,
And bowed his head submissive 'neath God's yoke.
This brought him peace, and his sad muse ere long
Found utterance in the following mournful song:


WILLIAM'S LAMENT ON THE DEATH OF HIS BELOVED WIFE.

Awake, my harp! give forth in solemn time
Thy sweetest numbers in harmonious rhyme.
'Tis time to bid my dormant powers arise,
Yet I would first dry up my weeping eyes.
My full charged bosom heaves, and oh, how slow
Conflicting thoughts in well timed numbers flow.
Cease, rebel feelings, cease your dreadful strife;
The theme's my love, the partner of my life.
Her portrait is before me, and that smile
Upon her features playing, shows no guile.
What were thy thoughts, my loved one, on that day
The artist's skill did our joint forms portray?
Thou wast not then so foolish as to deem
An early death a vain or idle dream.
We oft had converse on that mournful theme,
As oft looked forward to the solemn day
When death, grim monster! should tear one away.
I thought my time most surely first would come,
And thou, expected'st, first to reach thy home!
Thus were we apt to number out our days,
And oft together led to seek God's ways.
Most unfeigned pleasure did we take in this,
And gained as fruit sweet tastes of heavenly bliss.
Now, my belov'd one, thou art gone from me
And our dear little ones! Oh! can it be?
The sad reality comes o'er my mind.
Thou'rt gone indeed, and we are left behind.
Oh for that faith of which thou wast possessed,
As thy pure spirit strove to gain her rest.
Oh for that patience which thou didst display
Beneath our Father's hand to thy last day.
Methinks that thou art whispering in my ear:
'Let God's sure promises thy spirit cheer;
'Remember that our Jesus is the same
'To all whose trust is in His precious name.
'A few short days, perchance, or months, or years,
'May flee away; yet he will still thy fears
'And bear thee up as if on 'eagle's wings,'
'Far, far above the reach of earthly things.
'Remember what thou didst to comfort me;
'Thou hast God's word, the same it is to thee.
'Let fervent prayer ascend to God above;
'He'll deign to listen for He still is love.
'Rouse then, thy courage, let thy faith be strong,
'Let Hope, 'an anchor sure,' to thee belong.
'The time's not distant we again shall meet
'To part no more. This is a thought most sweet.
'But yet in patience do thy soul possess,
'And wait God's time, and then He will thee bless.'
Enough my loved one, I will haste away
To do my duties without more delay.
And trust in God who can fresh strength impart
To me to serve him with a perfect heart.



Here, then, kind reader, I must close my lay,
As other duties call me now away.
If you've had patience to go with me through
My lengthened tale, I bid you warm adieu.
If my small learning has called forth a sneer,
Know you from such things I have naught to fear.
For what is written I have this defense:
My song at least lacks not for common-sense.